


Blasphemous

by AngelicEclair



Series: Original Works [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Curiosity Shop, Demon, Demon Sex, F/M, Satantic, Shop-Keeper Demon BF, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27373417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicEclair/pseuds/AngelicEclair
Summary: The Reader ducks into a curiosity shop called Spellunking to escape the rain when and meets the equally curious shop-keeper.
Relationships: Ezore/Reader
Series: Original Works [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1999498
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Blasphemous

**Author's Note:**

> This story special because the pairing is The Reader and my OC, Ezore, who is a demon curiosity shop-keeper based on the likeness of Type O Negative's Peter Steele.

New England had an unnatural feel to it in the fall. An unexpected autumn rain had left the afternoon clean and smelling as crisp as a golden apple. (Y/N) sat outside her local coffee shop, listening to the cars speed through the murky puddles in the distance as she peered into the notepad app on her phone to double-check the titles of the books she was going to search for at the bookstore. 

In the small garden sitting area off the side of the coffee shop, tendrils of jasmine grew spitefully against the wisteria. Amidst the crackle of strewn newspapers, a man coughed a deep, nasty-sounding rasp and shook another Marlboro from a pack on the table before him. 

The church clocks were tolling the hour, a dark edge to the clangor, an inwrought fairy-tale sense of doom. (Y/N) walked along the sidewalk past the weather worn-brick museums of the historic district but dropped into a quaint shop before she reached the wharf light station and marbled harbor, sailboats flouncing on the choppy water. The sky darkened rapidly, darker every second; the wind rustled the trees in the park, and the new leaves on the trees stood out tender and yellow against foreboding clouds. 

(Y/N) gathered up her things and leaned against a pillar as she waited to cross the street, head touching the soft tendrils of jasmine locked in a constant battle with the wisteria. Above her, a crackle.

"Well, wouldn't you know it," (Y/N) mused to herself. "It's about to pour again." She fumbled in her bag for her umbrella, but it wasn't at the bottom where she was sure she had left it.

The late-afternoon sky of rotting amber was now fully hidden, and the rain came down in a cold sweep, awnings across the street flapping in the stirring wind. People waiting at the crosswalk were holding newspapers and briefcases over their heads, some scurrying up the stairs to the portico of an art gallery or bolting into random restaurants. 

(Y/N) skipped past both buildings and ducked into a curiosity shop endearingly called _Spellunking._

The urgent and overpowering smell of lilacs haunted her like a phantom attachment as soon as she entered the little shop, a jingling bell signaling her entry to the owner. Incense swirled in the air thickly, giving everything a hazy, almost otherworldly quality. Taking a step forward, there was still no sign of the owner, but there was a cute heart-shaped bottle of ritual salts on a glass display shelf that caught (Y/N)'s eye. There was tons of glassware--moon water jars, essential oil jars, and jars of bath-blends. (Y/N) grabbed one that caught her eye and took a sniff. She could smell luscious neroli and vanilla, oats, and sea salt.

Making her way to the center of the store, she found the display with the shop's collection of gemstones. Sitting as a centerpiece was a huge selenite sphere that resembled a pure, pregnant moon. (Y/N) ran her hand down the sphere, her skin delighting at the smooth, glossy feel. It was like actually touching the moon.

(Y/N) was not one for metaphysical mumbo-jumbo, but something about the shop's vast collection was piquing her interest, strumming it, plucking it. Maybe her head was getting too full of incense. 

From in between the merchandise on the shelves, Ezore watched with the keenness of a crow as (Y/N) run her hands over the pebbles of opalite moonstones.

Her face radiated something of an old, old romantic glow. He could practically taste the sweetness of her spirit and alacrity of her intelligence. She was fascinating with her cool, silvery resolve, but he could tell there brewed powerful magic inside her. One she was unacquainted with. He was eager to bring it to the surface.

"You're new to all this, aren't you? Well, you know, 'witchcraft has not a pedigree, 'tis early as our breath.' That's Emily Dickinson." The man had a voice for poetry. He also had the looks for being a muse. He was tall, muscular, with long hair as black as raven wings.

"I just don't know if I believe in all of it, that's all."

"I am Ezore, and I'd like to make a believer out of you."

(Y/N) stood in a stupor for a second.

"If you're worried about other's perceptions if you were to dabble in the dark--One doesn't become a witch to run around being a pest or harmful. It's to escape, to have a life of one's own, not an existence doled out to by others."

(Y/N) continued to stand stupidly-still, entranced by Ezore's words. Turning to pluck a stone off the glass shelf, the frighteningly-tall man tucked a black rock into (Y/N)'s clammy hands.

"Hold a piece of black quartz over your heart to feel your own heartbeat. Start with that; if nothing happens, you don't have to come back. If something does, however, we have much to discuss."

Intrigued by his challenge, (Y/N) smiled. 

"Sure. I'll try it tonight, but I can't say I am expected anything."

"And that is very well. Sometimes magick doesn't always manifest in the way one expects."

The whole way home, after picking up her books, (Y/N) felt the black quartz burning a hole in her pocket, calling for her.

She plunked it onto her nightstand as she went about her evening chores, not coming back to it until she was ready for bed. Sitting on the edge of her mattress, she felt a little silly, holding a rock to her chest in the middle of her empty house. She found herself suddenly vividly aware of Ezore. It was as if he had only just left the room, and the rough scratch of his voice still hung in the air. It was like the night was made for envisioning a darkly-beautiful face like his. She hungered for his death-pale skin. Desire was no light thing. The honied moon was dripping thick sweet light, and (Y/N) was finding herself restless, squeezing the quartz between her fingers.

With a startling screech, the cross upon her bedroom wall began to upside down.

"O will she, moonlike, gemlike, ghostlike, deathlike, give into me?

A voice that was unmistakenly Ezore's came.

(Y/N)'s bed warmed up like a pyre, and a circle of thirteen hooded phantoms ringed her room.

"Who is she that kneels - so respectfully before me, virgin of snow-white purity?

Materializing in her room was the attractive shop-keeper with his weeping willow tendrils of black hair. He descended onto the floor like Jesus' second coming, with grace and self-assurance. It was Ezore, but he had the horns of an antelope or some cloven-hooved animal. 

"Do not fear, my most fortunate one. I will not harm thee. Let us consummate and forge our igneous union."

"Ave satanas." The thirteen shadows chanted.

"I am the shadow - with the eyes, eyes of fire. I am here to fulfill your most hellish desire. Come, we will roll in the fire."

(Y/N)'s heart thundered in her ears. It was if she was standing alone on the edge of the world when she looked into his eyes. His dark woodland eyes. Eyes that she would sell her very soul for.

Ezore lingered closer, cool shadows rippling off his limbs.

"God..."

"Blasphemous little thing, aren't you. There is no use in your pleading. Your weak god can not help you now."

He leaned down considerably to kiss her. His mouth tasted like war, and (Y/N) was weak for the chaos.

"If I had to guess, I'd say you did what you were told and held that dark quartz to your heart, yes? In doing so, you beckoned me, true form and nothing hidden. I told you I wanted to make a believer out of you, and I do believe it is safe to say I succeeded."

(Y/N) was speechless.

"You see, (Y/N) when you wandered into my little apothecary, I could smell the raw, untapped power rolling off of your insides, and I knew I had to unlock it, to show you what has been festering inside you, unnoticed."

"H-how..how will you 'unlock' it?"

"It's a service for both of us. Being an incubus, I will take your lithe human body and leave you moonstruck. In doing so, it will awaken your succubus blood."

His voice lowered to a seemingly impossible octave.

"All I have to do is make you _cum."_

(Y/N) hugged herself and shuddered, overwhelmed by the spill of information.

"Up on the bed, my dear. I'll show you the way."

"Do...Do they have to stay?" (Y/N) weakly motioned to the robed figures standing against the walls of her room.

"They do. They have to witness the birth of your succubushood, or the ritual will be null."

(Y/N) climbed up on the bed and scooted until her back was up against the pillows.

"Now, shed those pants and panties, my dear."

(Y/N) did as she was told, despite the many eyes burning into her skin little miniature brands. Her legs threatened to lock together with her bottom-half completely nude. The came a voice that cracked her core.

"Hold those petals wide apart for me..." (Y/N), looking like a deer in the headlights caught on to what Ezore meant. She carefully spread her pussy like the petals of a fragile flower. "That's it." Ezore hissed.

"Now, if you'll allow me. Just focus on your own pleasure. You'll know your true powers soon enough." He growled as his head dipped between her legs. An absurdly-long black tongue slithered from Ezore's mouth and slapped hotly against (Y/N)'s clit, beginning its methodical sweep against her nethers. It was immediately impossible to form coherent thoughts. Two great hands reach up to her hips to steady her, black claws pressing into soft flesh. His tongue felt unnaturally soft as it was unnaturally long. It pressed against her perfectly, centuries of experience apparent in his ministrations. It wouldn't be long until (Y/N) had his head sandwiched between her thighs as she tried not to die from the sensitivity her orgasm brought.

Ezore's long tongue pushed inside (Y/N)'s waiting hole, and he began to tonguefuck her at the perfect pace. (Y/N) was overwhelmed and rewarded more richly than any promise imaginably. She sighed out as the first wave of pleasure hit her, and she smashed her crotch into his face, unwittingly. Bouncing on his tongue, (Y/N) let herself fall down the rabbit hole. She felt an indescribably molten feeling in her stomach, one very different from the heat of orgasm.

A sigil began to burn bright on her belly as she came on the incubus' face. She felt power pulse through her veins like hot honey.

"'Tis complete," Ezore whispered, petting (Y/N) sweaty hair. The robed figures nodded once before vanishing as if they had never been there to begin with.

"So, you unlocked by powers. I do feel...different. Will I get horns like you?" 

"I'm a grand incubus. You will need a few...devotees under your belt before you start looking the part."

Exhausted from having her energy drain and power unlocked, (Y/N) smiled weakly as she felt herself fading to sleep. Ezore's form faded before her eyes closed.

"Come to my shop tomorrow. We have much to discuss."

(Y/N) slept without nightmares. An inexplicable peace. 

**Author's Note:**

> Did you all like Ezore?


End file.
